The Blossom of District Twelve
by thenewbassclarinetgirl
Summary: What if the protective older sister hadn't stepped in?
1. Prologue

Author's note: my first Hunger Games fanfic! I hope you like it. Pleasepleaseplease review. Should I write more?

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_Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not my sister._

_ It's me._

The crowd is even more silent than before the name was read. If such a silence can even be possible.

But now I know the true meaning of a deafening silence. Because though no one is speaking, the blood pounding frantically in my ears threatens to burst out of my veins. And a horrible, far-off scream is in the background of it all...

But wait... That scream is real. I whip around, and it's my sister. Shrieking. Protesting. But no comprehensible words can find their way off her tongue. She just stutters, helplessly and unhelpfully.

The crowd begins to murmur. Sighs of disappointment - I know no one is happy to see me go. Everyone in the district knows me and my family, and I'm like a daughter to all the parents of orphans, a sister to the only children.

My sister's hand touches the small of my back ever so lightly. The contact is barely noticeable. But I notice it all right, and I notice the meaning of it, too.

_ I love you, but I cannot help you now._

It hurts to know she doesn't care enough. But I know family loyalty only goes so far.

I straighten up, my fists clenched at my sides, and square my shoulders, trying to look as brave as I can. But I know the blood has drained from my face, and that my small, hesitant steps display anything but confidence.

Effie Trinket smiles brilliantly as I step up to the stage. I feel smaller than ever under her blinding white grin.

And my name rings out over the district again, in her impossibly cheerful voice, but this time, her sentence holds more irony than anything in the world.

"Welcome to the Games, Primrose Everdeen."


	2. Chapter 1

Ever since the reaping, a numbness has settled in my mind. It refuses to leave, like an itch you can't get rid of, no matter how hard you scratch.

But I welcome the numbness. I know it is blanketing the fear that inevitably will take over at any moment.

There is a knock at the door of our small cottage. My sister Katniss goes to answer it.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the golden light of the sunrise behind him, is the man whose advice and training is crucial to my survival in the Games.

Haymitch.

I see Katniss's nose wrinkle slightly as my mentor's characteristic stench reaches her. But Haymitch doesn't notice. He gives Katniss a sharp nod of acknowledgment without even looking at her, then walks straight past her toward me.

I realize another boy is with him. Ah - my fellow tribute. Peeta Mellark.

Unlike Haymitch, he makes eye contact with my sister and gives her a murmur of greeting. She just blinks at him.

Peeta follows Haymitch into the room. It's the first time I've seen Peeta up close - and suddenly, the numbness is gone; replaced, as I knew it would be, by fear.

True fear.

In that moment, looking at Peeta's size (he is skinny, but tall and with some muscle), and imagining how much stronger all the other tributes will be...I know I am going to die.

No matter how much training Haymitch can give me, no matter what weapons I can get my small, useless hands on, I am going to die.

Even if it comes down to just Peeta and me in the arena, I will die. I don't think he would kill me in cold blood, but I could never kill him! I'll kill myself before hurting a beetle - much less a living, breathing human.

I am the worse candidate possible to represent District 12 in the Games.

The unfairness of it all hits me like a rock. I am just a little girl, chosen at random to walk straight into a death trap.

But even little girls can have strong emotions, and right now I am the perfect example. I am filled with anger strong enough to blow up the entire Capitol. Anger at Katniss, for not replacing me - didn't she promise she would always protect me? Anger at the Capitol, for coming up with this murder fest and forcing me to die. Anger at Haymitch, at Peeta, at my mother - even at Effie Trinket, who was made to deliver the horrible news to my entire district.

I lock eyes with Peeta. My entire body is shaking.

"I don't want to die," I barely whisper. Only Peeta hears me - or reads my lips. I doubt I am loud enough for him to hear.

He gives a tiny nod, and gives a shocking reply. It makes me wonder if I read his lips correctly.

Peeta Mellark tells me, "I will not let you die."


End file.
